


if i hold my breath until i die (i'll be alright)

by voltemand



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltemand/pseuds/voltemand
Summary: Annie’s about to make some sort of passive-aggressive, Shirley-inspired comment about howof course she’s awake in the wee hours of the morningwhen Britta charges ahead. “So this is a voicemail.” She takes a breath, and Annie feels herself mirroring her with a shallow intake and a noisy sigh. “Annie,” Britta says, “do you know that you’re special?”
Relationships: Annie Edison/Britta Perry
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	if i hold my breath until i die (i'll be alright)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whistlesnbells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whistlesnbells/gifts).



> Prompt: Annie/Britta, “things you said while you thought I was asleep.”
> 
> Title from the Tegan and Sara song “Hold My Breath Until I Die.”

It’s 4:09 A.M. How does Annie know this? Well, her phone is ringing (Taylor Swift crooning about balconies and white dresses), her alarm’s blaring (she needs to get that fixed, 1-800-CALL-TROY), and suddenly her eyes are flying open (full of gunk and aching from sleep). She picks up the phone, but before she’s able to answer she hears Britta’s voice crackling through the speakers. ”Hey! Annie! Uh, you’re probably asleep...”

Annie’s about to make some sort of passive-aggressive, Shirley-inspired comment about how _of course she’s awake in the wee hours of the morning_ when Britta charges ahead. “So this is a voicemail.” She takes a breath, and Annie feels herself mirroring her with a shallow intake and a noisy sigh. “Annie,” Britta says, “do you know that you’re special?”

Okay. Here’s the thing. Annie does know this. She knows that she’s special because duh, ask any Disney princess, everyone is, but also because of how the word itself is flexible, protean. Special, i.e., smarter, better, stronger. This special means people can take advantage of you, push you, hurt you. Or special, i.e., stupid, different, wrong. That version’s more honest, but it's just as painful to hear. Annie’s been both kinds of special. She doesn't particularly like either one.

But in Britta’s voice, the words a little slurred, slow and sweet as honey, it doesn’t sound like a burden or an insult, neither a poisoned chalice nor a loaded gun. “No one called me that when I was your age,” Britta tells her (tells the phone, really). “I think I’ve been waiting for someone to say that for about all my life.” She pauses again. “I bet people tell you that all the time. Annie. Because you are, you know. I bet they say it like _this_ ,” and here she adopts a deep tone, “they say _Annie, you’re special. Annie, I adore you. Annie, I love you._ And then maybe they kiss you.” Britta’s returned to her natural pitch, but there’s something strange in the way she’s speaking. It’s all hoarse. “They say that, right? They do that?” She giggles, and it’s disconcerting. Britta doesn’t giggle. She laughs, often holding it back, her face turning pink and soft at the edges. Now, she’s hiccuping, almost shrieking. “But why am I even asking you? You’re asleep.”

Annie’s not, is the thing. She could say something right now. She should say something right now. But she wants to hear what Britta’s going to say next. It feels like a sublime secret, a delicious morsel of information she might never get to taste again. She waits with bated breath.

Britta makes a noise. She must be sucking air through her teeth. “What I called to say.” Another sound. “I meant to say.” She breathes in and out like she’s preparing to run, to jump, to burn down the house. Annie knows that feeling, and she silently cheers Britta on, holding her breath, waiting for something, anything.

Nothing happens. She hears another breath, and then a click. Britta must have hung up.

And Annie’s not sure why, but she feels like she’s missed out on something. Something big.

Her phone is silent for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me on Tumblr at [withatalentforsquaddrill](https://withatalentforsquaddrill.tumblr.com) (for general bullshit) or [foresme](https://foresme.tumblr.com) (for fandom bullshit).


End file.
